


As You See Me

by shotofvanilla



Series: See You... [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blind Character, Blindfolds, M/M, blind!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2018-01-05 19:15:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotofvanilla/pseuds/shotofvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts off with an innocent question, asked tentatively on a chilly weekend morning in late March.</p><p>"What's it like, being blind?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	As You See Me

It starts off with an innocent question, asked tentatively on a chilly weekend morning in late March. Dean stayed over the night before, so he and Cas wake up together, warm and lazy and prepared to do absolutely nothing. They're curled together like parenthesis, heads pillowed on hands like how children sleep.

"Hey, Cas?"

"Yeah?"

Dean pauses, letting the words form in his mouth. He shifts on the bed to buy some time before deciding to let them slip out. "What's it like, being blind?"

There's a silence and for a few seconds Dean worries that he's crossed some line. Cas never seems to care about being blind, having acclimated so well after so many years that he walks around his own apartment as good as any sighted person, but Dean is still nervous. It's not exactly a common topic of conversation for them.

He's about it tell Cas to forget it when Cas sighs thoughtfully and rolls over onto his back, one hand on his stomach while his eyes open blankly to the ceiling above him.

"It was strange, at first. I would forget sometimes, and whenever I closed my eyes, even just to blink, I was always confused when I opened them again and still saw nothing. Sight is such... a natural sense; we don't think about it or really tune it out like hearing or smell. I remember there were days when I would wake up and spend the entire morning wondering if I was still sleeping.

“I'm used to it now, I suppose. I have to be, so I don't really think about it anymore. I have my  routines and organization for when I'm at home, and when I go out I have friends to drive me or my cane. It's a hassle, obviously, but I've just learned to live with it now." He shrugs before reaching out and poking Dean in the stomach. "Why? Were you curious?"

Dean laughs a little, embarrassed as he traps Cas' hand in his own, holding it in his own. "I guess," he mumbles. He plays with Cas' fingers, tracing around his knuckles and the sparsely fine hair that grows there.

Cas turns his head to smile at him. "I can show you, if you want to," he offers.

"...Is that supposed to be a pun?"

*~*~*

And that's how they get themselves here. Cas finds an old black scarf in his closet and kneels behind Dean on the bed as he ties it on, pulling the knot tight so that the material doesn't slip down the sides of Dean's face.

"Does that feel okay?" he asks, hands coming to rest on Dean's shoulders.

Dean nods as he opens his eyes. The darkness is disorienting, his eyes continuously searching for any sliver of light or color. He remembers playing Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey at a birthday party as a child, how the fabric had been cheap and thin and he had ultimately cheated by peeking through the two slits of light that had been near his nose.

That is not the case now. Cas' scarf is thick and blocks everything out. The darkness is all he sees.

He feels Cas shift away and off the bed. Unsteadily, he too comes to his feet, hand reaching forward tentatively until he finds Cas' forearm. His balance feels off, as if his center of gravity has tilted off its axis ever so slightly.

"So," he says, gripping Cas' shoulder tightly, "can the blind lead the blind?"

He feels Cas' shoulders shake as he scoffs. "Of course I can. The door is just to our right, five steps in front of us."

He thinks Cas is just joking, but he gets a shock when he follows Cas' lead and finds the fingers of his left hand grazing the inside of the door frame. He doesn't let go of Cas' shoulder after that, and allows himself to be led across the living room, expertly weaved between the couch and coffee table he knows are there somewhere. He shuffles forward hesitantly, unwilling to lift his feet up even the barest millimeter.

Even though he's only been blindfolded for less than ten minutes, he already feels as if his other senses have heightened. He picks police sirens from below, far enough away to be several streets over. The plain rug Cas has in the center of the room feels strange to his socked feet, all matted and bumpy, and the wooden floorboards beneath creak softly.

"There's a lamp to your left," Cas says casually. Dean sticks his hand out and almost knocks it over.

"Shit!" He just manages to catch it time, letting go of Cas' shoulder in order to keep the lamp from falling over. "How do you do this?"

"Years of practice." Dean can hear the smile in Cas' voice, somewhere to his right. A familiar hand grasps his and they continue their slow journey through the living room.

The sunlight is warm when they briefly pass by the window, and the kitchen tile is strangely cool and ridged. The opening and closing of cabinet doors sound different to Dean's ears, as does Cas' voice. It's louder, richer, composed of multiple layers Dean's simply never heard before. It seems to echo, resonating in the air and inside of Dean's head.

There's a small mishap when Cas tries to show him how to fill up a glass of water. It's a simple matter, requiring a finger kept over the rim of the glass in order to gauge the level of the water as it rises, but Dean manages to overfill it anyway and spills it all over the floor. He then proceeds to slip on it and nearly cracks his head on the countertop. Cas returns them to the living room after that, sitting Dean on the couch before he quickly cleans up in the kitchen.

Dean sits there, more than slightly embarrassed. He can hear Cas in the kitchen, the slide of the water glasses against granite counters, the thumping sound as wet paper towels are thrown into the wastebasket.  It's a marvel, really, how Cas moves around his apartment with such confidence  while Dean's perched there on the couch, arms and legs stiff because he's afraid of knocking over the coffee table.

Cas comes back and sits on the couch beside him, and Dean can feel him fold his legs into the crisscrossed position he's so fond of. He slowly shifts and turns so that he's sitting sideways on the couch as well, and then reaches out tentatively until he finds Cas' hand, following the line of his arm up onto his shoulder.

It's a reverse of that day back in September, when Cas sat there and traced over the lines in Dean's face. Now it's Dean who's trying to map Cas out, trying to match the version of Cas he has in his head with the one his fingers are telling him about.

"How do you 'see' people doing this?" Dean asks laughingly, his hands somewhere around Cas' temples. "All I'm getting is a jumble of lines and shapes."

Cas chuckles and his skin crinkles around his eyes as he grins. "It takes practice," he says, "and even then it's hard to get a real sense of someone's face. It usually takes me a while to put all the pieces together."

Dean hums and glides his hands downward so that they find Cas' lips and chin. "So what do I look like to you?"

Cas' voice is low and Dean can feel every muscle beneath his skin shift as he answers. "Beautiful."

Dean really should call him a sap for that, maybe laugh and knock him around for it, but he can't. So he does the next best thing and leans forward to kiss him.

It's far more difficult than he anticipated. Even with his hands there to guide him he still misses his mark by a couple centimeters and ends up mainly kissing the space beneath Cas' nose at first. Cas adjusts so that they're more perfectly aligned; his lips still curved into a smile as he draws up onto his knees and cups Dean's neck with a warm hand.

Cas pushes slightly, and suddenly they're spread out on the couch, Dean on his back and Cas hovering above him. Cas moves so that his lips are pressed against the spot just below his ear, tongue darting to flick and taste, and it causes Dean moans softly, hands bunched up in the fabric of Cas' shirt.

There's so much to focus and zero in on. Little things like Cas' breath in his ears, the feeling of his lips sliding down with teeth grazing ever so gently, become highlighted in his mind. Dean's hands are broad and flat against the planes of Cas' back as he breathes in deeply, smelling clean soap and laundry detergent.

His lack of sight is taken advantage of, he knows, because Cas pulls out all the stops, changing techniques and moving faster than Dean can keep up with. At one moment his hand is at Dean's side, skimming the waistband of his jeans, and the next it's in his hair, pulling at the strands enthusiastically. His mouth seems everywhere at once, and it's all Dean can do to grip Cas' shirt and simply hold on. He tries to wrap his legs around Cas' hips, a move that somehow nearly sends both of them to the floor and ends their impromptu make out session.

When they're both safely settled on the couch again, giggles slipping out from between lips and cheeks still flushed, Cas scoots closer to Dean and kisses him on the cheek, sweetly, hands pushing up the blindfold covering Dean's eyes. The sudden assault of light is almost more disorienting than the initial darkness, and it takes him a while to adjust to colors that suddenly seem far too bright and vibrant to be real.

"So what did you think?" Cas asks, a grin playing on his face as he stares up at Dean.

Dean struggles to get his thoughts aligned. "It's weird," he says, and that's a shit answer but Cas nods like he understands. He thinks about the lamp and the water and the counter. "I wouldn't make it, if I were blind."

Cas laughs as he kisses Dean's fingers. His voice still sounds vibrant and full of color. "Perhaps it's best we leave that to me."

"Well, I can think of a few situations where I wouldn't mind it."

There's a suggestive tone in the air, and it hangs there for a beat before Cas yanks the scarf down around Dean's eyes again and pushes him back into the couch cushions.

*~*~*

They migrate to the bedroom after Dean nearly rolls them off the couch again. He has to take of the blindfold briefly in order to take off his shirt, but he slips it back on again quickly afterward.

He sinks into the mattress, the sheets till rumpled and unmade from the morning. Cas is on top of him in only his underwear, his back bare and arching and perfect for Dean's wandering hands. He tries to memorize the Cas beneath his fingertips, taking in every dip and curve as Cas rocks his hips down.

Dean is more or less naked as well, except for his boxers. And the blindfold.

It feels like their first time all over again. Every sensation, every inch of skin Dean's hands find seems new and unexplored. Have Cas' hands always been so soft, his lips so sweet, his hips so perfectly slotted against Dean's? Has it always felt like this?

Dean doesn't remember anymore. He can't think of anything except Cas above him, all around him, constantly touching, kissing, and whispering disjointed and dirty promises for later. He arches to help Cas slip his boxers down his hips, and his fingers scramble to remove Cas’ underwear as well.

They come messily only a few minutes later, Cas' hands wrapped around them both and their hips in a broken rhythm. Moans seem to echo off the walls and even though the blindfold is still around Dean's eyes, he's pretty sure, as stupid as it may sound, he sees stars.

*~*~*

They lay there in the afterglow, breaths harsh from exertion and sated smiles on their faces.

"That was..."

"Amazing."

"Yeah."

Slowly, Dean reaches up to pull off the scarf and rolls over to appreciate Cas with new eyes. He finds Cas staring vaguely back at him, eyes open and bluer than ever. There are more words he feels like he needs to say, but he can't bring them to his throat, so instead he presses soft kisses all over Cas' face and over his shoulders until Cas swats at him, laughing.

They both lay there, listening to each other breathe, until they're gently lulled back to sleep.


End file.
